


Little Talks

by Schmidt1012



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, POV John Winchester, halloween ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 02:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21245936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmidt1012/pseuds/Schmidt1012
Summary: Sam was crying. Dean was hungry. Mary was cold. And John just wanted to sleep in peace.





	Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Of Monsters and Men song [Little Talks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghb6eDopW8I).

Sam was crying, again.

John lay there on his back, unmoving, eyes glued on the ceiling, as he listened to his six-months-old son cry his lungs out.

He's tired of everything. And all he asked was a quiet, peaceful evening, just for one night, to get some proper sleep.

But no.

Every night went like clockwork, and tonight wasn't any different from the rest.

“Daddy,” a voice announced itself, “I'm hungry.”

It was Dean. Etched in the darkness was his small figure standing at the foot of the bed.

John didn't hear his son enter, nor the door had been opened, but as if it mattered anymore. In an attempt to ignore his boy, he dismissively said, “Just go to bed, Dean.”

“But I'm--”

“Go. To. Bed,” interrupting Dean, John punctuated.

Silence followed, or so John thought. A silent sniffle came up from Dean before the boy mumbled, “Can't sleep.”

“Just close your eyes.”

“I cannot sleep,” Dean whined, repeating himself.

“Why–” _the hell_ “–not?” John closed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. A rogue tear slowly rolled down his face. Please, help him. He couldn't do it tonight. He was too drained to deal with this.

Slamming both of his hands on the mattress like a four-year-old would, Dean said the obvious, "Because Sammy's crying."

_I fucking know!_

As if on cue, Sam's cries grew louder; his helpless, tiny little voice permeated the air as he sought attention.

“Make him stop, Daddy.”

“Just ignore your brother,” _and leave me alone_. John turned on his side and kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see Dean. Maybe if he ignored his son long enough, the boy would leave and let him sleep.

“Why don't you check on Sam,” Mary whispered behind John, her voice as sweet as he remembered, “and I'll fix Dean a sandwich?” She then pressed her body against John's and ran her hand along the length of her husband's arm.

John flinched at the cold touch.

"Hey, what's wrong," Mary asked with genuine concern.

_You, that's what's wrong_, John wanted to say but kept it to himself.

“Daddy,” not wanting to be ignored, Dean screamed, “make him stop!”

***_Waa! Waah!_***

“Tell me what's wrong, Honey.”

“He’s too loud!”

John's head throbbed, and his heart ached at the babel of mixed voices, calling his name in the darkness. It took all his strength to ignore them, but somehow it felt as if they were all in his head.

Dean was crying now together with Sam in the background. He called his Daddy, again, but John only muttered a pathetic ‘I’m sorry’ in response. Coughing was soon to follow, and in-between them were pleas for help.

“Daddy!” **Cough.** “Mommy!” **Cough.** “Where are you?”

“**_Wah-wah!_**”

“John, look at me.”

_Please, stop_, he begged and drew his knees close to his chest, curling himself into a fetal position. His body began to tremble, and his breathing came in ragged gasps. The next thing he knew was tears were running down his cheeks, damping his stale-smelling sheets. _Please, stop. I’m begging you, leave me alone._

But they didn’t leave.

John had to painstakingly listen to how his children’s cries grew fainter by the second, with Dean’s last words calling out his Daddy, asking for help, coughing. Mary, on the other hand, held John tighter in her cold embrace. Her whispers were deafening as if she’s shouting in John’s ear.

“I thought this is what you want, John?” Mary asked, all soft and calm.

Not trusting his voice, John shook his head no, his shoulders quaking uncontrollably.

“Why? Tell me.”

“Because you’re dead,” John answered in between choked sobs, “You’re all dead.”

Getting it off his chest didn’t make John feel any better. He’s physically and emotionally exhausted. It only reminded him of the devastating fire that took his family, leaving him alone. To an extent, Mary was right. John wanted his family back. But not like this: dead.

After that tragic incident, every night went like clockwork, and tonight wasn't any different from the rest.

The arms around John eased their hold. The voices had finally stopped. All that’s left were John’s pained sobs echoing in his empty apartment as he cried himself to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and Happy Holidays! :)


End file.
